A Model for Evangelical Theology

Integrating Scripture, Tradition, Reason, Experience, and Community

Graham McFarlane

• Publisher: Baker Academic
• Year: 2020
• Print ISBN: 9781540960351
• eBook ISBN: 9781493422364
• Topic: Théologie et religion
• Subtopic: Théologie chrétienne

Written by a skilled theologian with over two decades of classroom experience, this introduction to evangelical theology explains how connecting to five sources of Christian theology--Scripture, tradition, reason, experience, and community--leads to a richer and deeper understanding of the faith. Graham McFarlane calls this the "evangelical quintilateral," which he recommends as a helpful rubric for teaching theology. This integrative model introduces students to the sources, themes, tasks, and goals of evangelical theology, making the book ideal for introductory theology courses.

Part 1: Evangelical Theology and Its Method

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Framing the Skill of Being a Theologian

Theology Is about Asking Questions

Questions lie at the very heart of human existence. Think about it: they are a way of life—human existence in all its complexity and struggles, as well as beauty and joys, demands questions. We ask questions about everything, from the simple (How are you? Can I help? What’s your name? Where do you live? What’s the time? Have you any milk? Now where did I put those keys? You said what? Didn’t I give you the tickets? Are we there yet?) to the more complex (Why do we nod our heads to signify yes and shake them for no? What is time? Who am I? What’s the meaning of life? Why do some people talk more than others? Is the brain different from the mind? Is there intelligent life anywhere else in the universe? Is there a God? What number do you get if you divide 40 by ½ and add 10?1).

Of course, questions are also highly practical. Questions come into their own when we are about to make a big purchase. We compare the price of one car and the value it has with that of another we may well be looking at—we ask questions about depreciation, energy consumption, and insurance brackets to find the best deal. We evaluate with almost every shopping purchase: Is something of better quality or value in another shop? We use comparison websites to determine the best deal for our purchases, whether a mobile phone, travel insurance, currency exchange, or appliances. The list is almost endless. And since questions intrude so much on just about every aspect of human existence, it is important that we recognize not only how ubiquitous this tool is—the universal drive to ask questions—but even more, how important it is.

Questions also lie at the very heart of human learning. They are the brain’s way of “double-clicking” on a topic to get it to divulge meaning. Without questions, we would learn nothing new. So why is it, then, that when it comes to anything to do with our faith, we appear to be less willing to bring this way of life—this tool—to bear on what we believe, on our Christian life, or on our thoughts about God? Indeed, many of us are strangely uncomfortable when it comes to asking our questions about God. Shouldn’t we “just believe”? Aren’t we meant to have a “simple” faith? Who are we to ask questions of God? Surely this is sheer impertinence! Wasn’t it because he asked too many questions that God slammed Job? Isn’t it a bit irreverent to be critically thoughtful about what the pastor or teacher has taught or preached?

In addition to these more personal questions is the fact that our beliefs invariably have consequences: What if the church is wrong about something it believes? After all, aren’t there some denominations that assumed that women being in leadership was untenable when they first started but are not so comfortable with this position today? And if Mother Church can get one thing wrong, who is to say that other things might not be similarly incorrect? How odd, then, that we ask questions in every other area of our lives but are less likely to do so when it comes to matters of faith, where a mindless piety can parade as an excuse not to engage in the messy business of human life and its transformation. Daniel Migliore captures this tension and the fear that asking questions can elicit when he points out that

while we may be accustomed to raising questions in other areas of life, we are inclined to fear disturbance in matters of faith. We fear questions that might lead us down roads we have not travelled before. We fear disruption in our thinking, believing, and living that might come from inquiring too deeply into God and God’s purposes. We fear that if we do not find answers to our questions we will be left in utter despair. As a result of these fears, we imprison our faith, allow it to become boring and stultifying, rather than releasing it to seek deeper understanding.2

There is little doubt that this kind of thinking would be ridiculed in any other contemporary discipline of human inquiry that is driven by the skill of asking judicious questions. For instance, without questions we would not enjoy the quality of life we do today, and most certainly we would not benefit from the many medical and scientific discoveries we take so much for granted. At the very heart of scientific discovery lies the discipline of asking questions: How does this work? Is there a better way to conduct energy? Does the sun really go around the earth? Is the earth flat? Why do objects fall down rather than float up? What is a quark? Could human life exist on Mars? How can a wave and a particle exist at one and the same time together? Can medicine cure all illnesses? Is all artificial intelligence benign? Then, in response to some of the discoveries scientists make, other questions arise, ones that are more ethical in nature and have more to do with how a given discovery may be used: Which disabilities should genetic coding eradicate? Other questions are concerned about the economic implications of a given possibility: Should a government spend more on education and less on military defense? Others explore the political ramifications of a discovery: Who has the right to a limited vaccine, and thus the right to live, in the face of a fatal pandemic?

Of course, some of us ask more questions than others. For some, asking questions is as normal as breathing: we externally process, we are naturally inquisitive, we have thick skin! For others, whether due to temperament—we are shy or introverted—or because we process internally or have been conditioned to keep quiet or were raised not to speak unless spoken to, or our cultural values silence one gender and not another, or our religious upbringing told us to “just” believe—questioning is something that does not come naturally. However, whether or not we are aware of our questions, still we are involved in the activity of asking them throughout each day. Asking questions is like breathing: we do it without even necessarily being consciously aware of the activity. And yet, without it, we would be at quite a loss. Try going through one day without either asking or answering a question. Put simply, questions are ubiquitous!

Pause

Why not try a simple test that will enable you to discover how many questions you ask in any given day? Note on a tablet or smartphone every time you find yourself asking a question or answering someone else’s question. Learn to recognize not only how you engage in this activity but also when you do it, what things cause you to ask questions, and how regularly you do this.

If questioning is such a basic instinct, why is it, then, that so many Christians, who in their everyday lives ask questions about everything and anything, are quietly reluctant to ask questions in relation to their faith or to what they believe about God, or Jesus, or the Holy Spirit, or about what the pastor, minister, elder, apostle, or bishop preaches or teaches whether from the front of church, or at home group, or in the weekly newsletter or church email? Why is it that church has become, for many, a place where our brains are disconnected and disempowered, set on “silent,” like our smartphones? Why are people rendered “questionless” regarding what they hear or are taught within the confines of church? It’s not as though what is being said is infallible! Why, then, does respect for church authority and what it teaches often necessitate unthinking allegiance? And while there are exceptions to the rule, on the whole, why does the physical structure of church buildings, as well as the way services are conducted, create socially constructed spaces and subcultures that render passive those who attend, disempowering them to question, explore, or externally process in any meaningful or participatory way? Would not the gains exceed any losses were time and space made within our church communities in which we could explore questions raised by a sermon or teaching and thus enable our faith to mature? Indeed, it is a rare church where the term “theology” is referred to in a positive sense. Consequently, and often in response, church becomes a place either of unhealthy notions of mystery that transcend any need for meaningful explanation or of unthinking experience that is to be entered into and enjoyed but never critically explored. As a result, for many, church is rarely an inviting space or place where questions can be asked and explored.

Why is the issue of asking questions such an important issue to raise here at the outset? What is the benefit in doing so? Importantly, the reason for raising this obstacle here is not to undermine the church. As we will discover later, the task of theology is impossible without the church. Rather, the reason is simply this: it is to highlight the fact that the asking of questions and the subsequent ongoing task of finding answers to them lies at the very heart of theological inquiry! There are two main reasons for this that come with their own significant challenges:

• The first concerns the matter of theology—God. As John Webster puts it, “Christian theology has a singular preoccupation: God, and everything else sub specie divinitatis,”3 which is an old-fashioned Latin way of saying “from the perspective of divinity.” In essence, what Webster is saying is that everything other than God has to be considered in the light of God’s eternal existence. Put like this, theology does not immediately appear to be very clear. And perhaps this is the point that needs to be made here at the start of this book—the task of theology is not that easy or simple, because its subject matter is God. This being the case, the most natural and meaningful response to anything that is not immediately clear is to ask questions in the hope, by doing so, of discovering more information about it. This is normal procedure in every aspect of human life: when we want to understand something that is unfamiliar, unclear, uncertain, or even unknown, the first thing we do is to ask questions. Questions, in turn, hopefully elicit answers—good ones, wrong ones, half-baked ones, but at least they move us in the direction of discovery. What we call “theology” is simply the result of what Christian thinkers have discovered to be good (or bad) answers to the questions people have asked about and in response to hearing the gospel, being met by Jesus, or wondering about God.4
• The second reason for asking questions and finding answers follows from the first: not only is the subject matter of theology, God, not immediately clear, but by virtue of God’s very nature, the subject matter of theology is also completely different from any other subject we can study or about which we can ask questions. Why?
  • Because God is not created: everything else we ask questions about is.
  • Because God is not directly observable: just about everything else is.

Therefore, the subject matter of theology raises its own peculiar and particular challenges not only in what can be said about God but also in terms of how we are even able to find out what can be said about God. This book is predominantly about the latter—how we go about the task of talking ab...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Endorsements
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Contents
• Preface
• Part 1: Evangelical Theology and Its Method
• Part 2: An Integrated Model for Evangelical Theology
• Conclusion
• Notes
• Bibliography
• Index
• Back Cover